


the here and now

by Ruriska



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, FaceFucking, Incest, Light Bondage, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shimadacest, Smut, TBGKontest, Violence, blowjob, includes some OC characters for drama, only light and not involving the main pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 07:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruriska/pseuds/Ruriska
Summary: Genji waits to be rescued.





	the here and now

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tumblr contest entry!
> 
> Please note I've chosen not to use archive warnings so please check the tags. Thank you!

The ceiling fan spun uselessly, pushing the warm damp air around the small room. The window had been cracked open slightly but there was only more heat outside, trickling in with the sounds from the street. Laughter, yelling, someone crying. Sweat ran down Genji’s spine. It was wet, disgusting, as unwanted as the grubby hand that kept stroking his bare shoulder, the palm rubbing with obvious intent, as obvious as the leer in that wide face with the missing teeth and the dark stubble.

Mariko had stopped sobbing hours ago and was now curled up in the corner, trying to make herself as small as possible. Her breasts hidden by her arm, the swell of them no longer even remotely erotic. They’d been having a good time until Genji had been literally caught unaware with his pants down, dick out, weaponless. He should have seen it coming, should have been able to fight them off. His body had been honed so that he was never defenceless and yet he hadn’t landed a single punch.

Genji shifted on the bed, widening his stance, knees spread, unabashedly naked. The muscles on his abdomen tightened and his captor’s gaze ran straight down, ogled hungrily. His friend watched them warily, phone in his hand, pacing around the limited space in the cheap love hotel room. He was anxious, his other hand never far from his gun, the sweat beading on his forehead. 

“They’re taking too long,” Phone Guy said, swallowing.

Genji tested the ropes binding his hands behind his back, stretched his fingers, twisted his wrist. No give. 

His ankles were similarly bound with rough rope, too tight, pinching the skin. His finger tips were tingling, the tips of his toes felt numb, feet cramping where he was leaning all his weight against them. A simple push would topple him over into the mattress, vulnerable. At least upright he had some illusion of control.

“I’m thirsty,” he complained.

There was a bruise forming on his chin, he could feel the dull ache of it. They’d hit him, once, twice. Enough to stun him so he could be trussed up. He was baiting for another, anything to break the tension, let it snap. Genji had never been a patient man. 

They ignored him instead.

Phone Guy paced again, from the window to the door, over and over. “They should be here by now.” He called the number he had been trying for what Genji thought must be hours now. Again there was no reply.

“Hey,” Genji’s voice was a petulant whine, deliberately needling. “You hear me? I’m thirsty.”

Groper grabbed his chin roughly, big fat fingers pressing deep into the new bruise, tilting his head up. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll _give_ you something to drink.” He used his other hand to grip suggestively at his crotch, as subtle as baboon with its red ass in the air.

“Yeah, I’ll pass,” Genji responded, with a quick smile, all teeth and no mirth.

The fingers tightened painfully at his flippant disregard. Groper’s cheeks were ruddy red and not just from the heat. His thumb pressed close to the corner of Genji’s mouth, slipped between the seam, intruding. Genji kept his teeth clamped shut, bared them pearly white and defiant.

“Leave him,” Phone Guy snapped.

Reluctantly, Groper retreated. His dark eyes held a darker promise.

Genji licked his dry lips and regretted it instantly, as the taste of that sweaty thumb invaded his mouth. He tried to swallow it down but the taste only spread, cloying and thick, and hatred thrummed in his veins. How dare you? Hissed the spirit beneath his skin. How dare you touch me?

Phone Guy marched himself to the front door, down the short hallway past the bathroom. Then he marched back, standing uncertainly in the doorway. He wiped the sweat away with the back of his sleeve, dragging it along, leaving his hair stuck damp along his forehead. “I’m going downstairs,” he announced. 

He tucked his gun away, hidden beneath his suit top. “Don’t,” he hesitated, eyeing Groper, the girl, Genji on the bed. He never finished the sentence, just let it hang, a vague threat. _Don’t_. 

Groper’s hand was back on Genji’s shoulder, blunt fingers digging into the muscle. “Yeah,” he agreed, with absolutely no intention of complying. Phone Guy could see it, Genji could hear it but nobody spoke, nobody said anything. Genji’s value dropped the more they fucked him over but they’d been waiting for too long. 

“Take the girl,” Groper grunted.

“Where?” Phone Guy asked, disgruntled. “Just ignore her.” He swallowed again, a nerve twitching in his jaw. “Lock the door.”

Groper followed him down the hall, clicked the lock into place.

He returned with a leer, the big bulk of him filling up the space in the room.

Genji refused to recognize the tight feeling in his chest as fear. There was nothing this man could do to him that hadn’t been done before. He wasn't afraid. He wasn’t. It was merely his disgust, as those meaty hands reached for him, grubby where they dug carelessly into flesh and dragged him awkwardly forward until he was on the verge of tipping over, held only in place by that unwanted touch.

He’d never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin.

Groper was breathing too much, quick and shallow, puffing. Genji recognized it as anticipation, excitement, want. 

“We’ve been watching you.” Genji didn’t look up, just trained his gaze on that big chest, rising and falling, one of the buttons on the cheap suit was coming loose, the thread was frayed. “Rich little slut. Bet you haven’t tasted a cock like mine.”

“That’s what they all say,” Genji drawled instantly, as if bored. A knee jerk reaction that earned him only pain, with a hand in the hair, digging in, tugging sharply. A gasp escaped him, slipped past his lips, his eyes snapping up to glower at his assailant. 

Groper grinned, showed off his missing teeth.

There was a clink of metal, the sound of a zipper being drawn down, the slide of leather over fabric. Genji’s eyes were drawn downwards, unwilling but unable to resist the dark fascination of watching as Groper set himself free, dug his cock up, short and thick, red and half-hard. It was nearly swallowed entirely by his hand when he gave a quick jerk, rubbing more life into it.

Genji was tugged forward and he lost all balance, held on a tightrope, with only the hand in his hair keeping him from falling over. His scalp burned. Panic stole his breath, held his chest in a vice, and still he taunted, 

“You wanna lose it?” 

He’d rather be beaten bloody, have his body torn to pieces, then have that ugly little dick in his mouth.

“Can’t bite with no teeth,” Groper threatened. 

His hand left his cock, grubby foul-smelling fingers against Genji’s mouth instead, curling, the knuckles pressing Genji’s lips harshly into his teeth. The taste of blood, a copper tang. 

“Behave,” he said.

No time was given for Genji to agree or disagree, he was manhandled back, allowed to ground himself on his knees again before Groper was bending him forward, guiding him by the hair towards his waiting cock. The tip glistened, Genji’s eyes crossed looking at it so he closed them, tried not to breathe as the wet and spongy tip pressed against his closed lips. 

Hatred coursed through him, a fierce rush. He railed against his helplessness, screamed inwardly, thought of biting, tearing, be damned the consequences. There was also that coiled fear, that realization that he’d fucked up, that nobody was coming, abandoned, they’d left him, he was going to, he would have to --

“Open,” Groper warned, voice low, his vile cock pressing in, worse than the fingers, stinking of sweat and old cum. 

Other sounds registered above the rushing in his ears, a creak from the floorboards and a metallic ‘shhhhh’. His mind flew back instantly to his first experience of that noise, when he’d been young, on his knees then as well, but in a dojo, his father standing before him, demonstrating. The grace and poise, the way Sojiro had drawn his sword, the sound announcing the sweep of the blade.

The squelch, the crunch, a sword sinking into flesh, the startled grunt before the brain caught up to the pain, the pre-cum swiped across Genji’s lips before he was released entirely. It all happened in a rush. He angled himself to fall sideways onto the bed instead of forward and off, eyes flying open in time to see Groper stagger back. 

One, two, three steps, turning to seek out his attacker. Hanzo on near silent footsteps, hair tied back, expression empty, a killer on the prowl. He danced, evaded the first swipe without effort, his sword drawn back, a two handed grip, sheathing his sword directly into Groper’s gut. Only then did his face came alight, vengeful demon, eyebrows drawn in, jaw clenched and teeth bared, as he dragged his sword across Groper’s belly. 

A slow-killing blow. 

Hanzo stepped back, tall, imperious, wiping his sword clean of blood with a cloth.

Groper fell to his knees, clutching at his gut. If he’d planned to fight back that thought was long gone, now his focus was in keeping his insides from spilling to the floor. His cock was still out, a flaccid wrinkled worm just peeking out of his pants. He looked ridiculous, too much white in his eyes, panicked and pained groans escaping as death surrounded him.

Death took the form of suited men, Shimada men, dark glasses and tattoos peeking at their collars. 

“Take them away,” Hanzo ordered. 

Mariko went quietly, no care given for her nakedness, simply marched out, white as a sheet, her hands trembling. He would never see her again. Even if they let her live, when she promised her silence in sobs and stammers, he would never seek her out. 

Then Groper was gone too. 

He left only a stain on the floor and the taste on Genji’s lips.

The room settled, quiet and still, only the distant buzz from outside, the oppressive heat, the ceiling fan spinning with a soft, continuous rhythm. Genji stretched himself as best he could along the edge of the bed, already relaxing, the fear easing out of him by Hanzo’s continued presence.

His brother was watching him, mouth downturned at the corners.

His mouth opened.

Genji jumped into the space between breath and words, lightning quick, jovial. “I know,” he said. I know, I was a fool, I’m sorry, I know it was a close one, forgive me. 

Whatever reprimand Hanzo had been about to utter died on his lips. His brow furrowed in frustration but he let it go with a noisy exhale and release of tension in his shoulders. Instead of speaking, his brown gaze moved along Genji’s body, assessing, intimate.

He stepped closer.

A pocket knife did short work of Genji’s bound legs, the rope cut clean through, life bleeding back into his feet. There was a red angry mark where the rope had dug into his skin and Hanzo’s fingers massaged gently at the flesh, encouraging blood flow.

His fingers trailed upwards, up his leg, along his hip, seeking marks left on the skin, bruises, grazes, instinctively found every sore spot, lingering as if to heal them with touch alone. Genji basked in the attention, trembled beneath his touch, not with lust but with relief, the freedom from fear. His brother had saved him again. He would always be there.

The pad of his calloused thumb pressed against Genji’s lips. 

“I was nearly too late,” he said.

Genji had let go of his fear but Hanzo hadn’t yet let go of his. 

He kissed Hanzo’s thumb and rolled onto his belly, offering his bound hands. Hanzo curled his fingers into the rope, but instead of cutting him loose, he used it to tug Genji closer to the edge of the bed. There wasn't far to go. Hanzo spun his legs around first, let Genji find his footing, and then pressed him down firmly by the shoulder until he was kneeling by the bed. 

The floorboards were sticky with the humidity. 

Hanzo sat heavily on the mattress. It creaked beneath his weight. 

“I want to touch you,” Genji complained. 

He dropped his head to Hanzo’s thigh. 

“I know,” Hanzo said, his hand was already running through Genji’s damp green hair, brushing back the sweaty strands. “Come here.” His fingers sunk into the hair at the back of Genji’s neck, held there, strong, comforting. There was the slightest of pressure, a question, before Genji allowed himself to be led into the spread of Hanzo’s legs. 

The juxtaposition between now and a few minutes before was not lost on Genji.

Having Hanzo slowly bare himself and be filled by instant wanting at simply seeing his brother reach within his pants. The longing to dive in, to fill himself up, show his gratitude and his love. When before there had been dread, now there was only the desire to please. The taste still lingering on his tongue would be washed away entirely, just as the man had been. 

“You know I’ll do a better job with my hands as well,” Genji said, a rasp in his voice. 

“I don’t want your hands.” Hanzo’s voice had deepened, husky. 

Genji tipped his head up to catch Hanzo’s gaze, to share a moment of hazy lust, desire thrumming between them. They would kiss later, lazily, take their time, with Genji arching his back, presenting, his brother there to fill him up, stretch him wide. But now the need was different, Hanzo would take his mouth, reclaim it here in this love hotel room, with blood on the floor and the man who had dared touch him bleeding his life out somewhere else.

Hanzo’s cock was a treasured friend, familiar. He could say it was beautiful with all seriousness. A stark contrast to his earlier disgust. 

That lovely dick held straight in offering by Hanzo’s loose grip, beckoned him forward until he opened his mouth, pressing his tongue flat against the head. Reverently Genji dipped his head, drew it into his mouth and wrapped his lips around the tip. He suckled, softly at first, dipping his tongue into the creases, swallowed down the thick taste as if it was as sweet as sugar. 

The saliva on his tongue, pooling, ready to be swept along the shaft as Genji made his way unerringly downwards. Wet and glistening, the skin pulled back from the tip, teased by Genji’s teeth as he made his way along. He kissed and nibbled, sucked, worshipped.

He left a lingering kiss on Hanzo’s thumb where he was gripping himself, teasing before shifting back with Hanzo’s cock dragging wetly against his cheek.

The hand in his hair tightened, convulsed. Hanzo stared down at him with dark, needy eyes. “Genji,” he murmured.

Genji swallowed him down.

Hanzo’s breath shuddered.

Genji was a sheath for his brother, a warm and welcoming space, throat relaxed as he let Hanzo guide him. His throat tightened once, threatening to gag but he was well-trained and the moment passed with only the slightest burn in the corners of his eyes. Hanzo was heavy on his tongue, hot, thick. He wanted all of it, stretched his lips wide just so he could take it, until dark pubic hair tickled his nose.

As he pulled back, slowly, slowly, he hummed. The sound reverberated and was echoed by a groan from above.

“Mhmm,” he agreed, looking upwards, through his thick eyelashes, giving unspoken permission.

Hanzo understood, took control, used Genji how he wanted. Fucked slowly into his mouth, dragging his head up and down, placed him at just the right angle to build his pleasure. Genji drooled, saliva leaking from the corners of his mouth, his tongue tasting, his cheeks hollowed and mouth kept wide. 

His brother fucked deeper, shifted forward on the bed and braced himself, hands on either side of Genji’s head. Genji’s own cock throbbed between his thighs, curled up towards his belly, the tip bright red. But it wasn’t the focus, it would remain ignored until Hanzo was done. 

And that wouldn’t take long.

Judging by his sharp breaths and the trembling of his thighs, the jerky way he was thrusting his hips into Genji’s mouth. Genji hummed his approval. 

The pace quickened, quickfire, tumbling towards relief. 

And then Genji’s mouth was empty.

He knew the drill. 

He opened his mouth wide, angled his head up, as Hanzo jerked himself off the edge, that last inch, before he was cumming. Genji accepted the sticky, white liquid against his tongue, swallowed quickly and opened again, could feel it running down his chin, splattered against his cheek. It felt like ownership. It felt like belonging. 

Hanzo had never been a loud lover, he came quietly, with soft grunts. All his emotion was in his eyes, locked on Genji’s face as he spilled upon him.

There was little pause between then and when he grabbed at Genji’s shoulders, surging downwards, into him, mashing their lips together, a desperate kiss, a kiss that conveyed everything he was always unable to say. Love and fear twisted together, their complicated tragedy. 

Genji returned the kiss was equal fervor, fire in his veins, burning him from the inside. Somewhere nearby a man was dying, possibly already dead; a woman was naked, whose only mistake was letting Genji seduce her; the world was continuing on outside, the screaming, the crying, the laughter, the tears. It was all nothing. There was only this moment. This place. 

There was only now.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! :)


End file.
